She nodded, and he guided her to the water’s edge. Emma held her skirts in her hands, and he kept his arm around her waist as they walked. The sand was wet, and their footprints made imprints behind them. The first wave washed over the sand, and he winced at the frigid cold. His wife gasped and laughed at the same time. “It’s like ice.”
“It’s nearly autumn,” he reminded her. “But even in summer, the water is cold.”
“It takes your breath away,” she admitted, moving back to the sand and out of the freezing seawater.
“It does,” he agreed. But he never took his eyes from her when he spoke. Her expression shifted, as if she’d sensed that he wasn’t talking about the water.
“Are we alone?” she whispered.
“We are.” Sand coated his bare feet as he walked away from the water. He kept his hands at her waist, and she rested her palms against his chest.
“Good.” She reached up to his face and pulled it down to hers. He kissed her hard, and she met his tongue with her own. The embrace was as wild as the sea waves, desperate and unyielding. He went rigid at her touch, and he wanted nothing more than to be with her.
“We’ll make the crossing soon,” she said against his lips. “And in a few days, I’ll be at your home in Ireland.”
“In another week,” he corrected. “We’ll cross the sea after a few more days here. I’m not finished with you yet.” He nipped at her lower lip, his hands moving over the curve of her breast.
“And what do you plan to do with me?” she teased.
“Mrs. Harding sent a few more lessons for you. I wouldn’t want to neglect your education.” He continued stroking her breasts, and she moaned at his touch. But the truth was, he wanted more time with her before leaving for Dunmeath.
“Will your family like me, do you think?” she mused aloud as he raised her skirt, touching her bare legs.
“I think the more important question is whether you like them,” he admitted. He caressed her thigh, and she shuddered against him. “And how soon I can bring you back to our cottage tonight, so I can spend the next few hours making love to you.”
“That does sound appealing.” She reached up to touch his face. “I worry about you, Cormac. And I can’t help but wonder if something in the house—or someone—was making you sick. You do seem to be better since we left everything behind.”
“I’m enjoying these days with you,a stór. But I’ve had spells like this before. They come and go.” Though he understood her veiled hope, he didn’t want her to imagine it would last. He drew her between his legs, pressing her body close. “We can only savor the time we have left.”
“I want more time,” she admitted. “And I don’t want to waste any of it. You should do all the things you’ve ever wanted.”
“And so I will.” He fully intended to begin by laying her down on a bed and exploring every part of her body.
“Cormac,” she asked as they began to walk back together, “What will it be like in Ireland?”
Though he understood her fears, he didn’t want her to imagine he would make any demands of her. “You’ll be my wife, just as you are now. I have no expectations of you to become the countess.”
“But there are responsibilities,” she insisted. “I don’t know what they are. I’ll need help in the beginning.”
“My mother can continue in that role,” he answered. “There’s no need for you to worry about it.”
“And what about years from now?” she asked. “When your mother is gone?”
“Or when I’m gone?” he dared to ask. Her face fell, and he regretted what he’d said. He shouldn’t have ruined the moment by mentioning his own death.
“What will happen to me if I become your widow?” she asked softly. “Am I to stay in Ireland? Or do I return to England?”
“If you are pregnant with our child, then you must stay at Dunmeath. I will see to it that you have everything you need.”
But in her voice, he heard the uncertainty. And though he wanted to shield her from it, he knew he could not.
“And if there is no child?” she murmured.
There was no answer he could give her. His cousin would inherit, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“We’ll worry about that later,” was all he could say.
*
